Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

Chapter 580 It's none of your business to tell others what to do!
All the thought processes were completed in less than three seconds.

The priest's voice continued to proclaim the divine decree.

Everyone was immersed in this huge temptation.

The priest's voice suddenly sounded like a death sentence from the depths of hell:
"The loser..."

The moment those two words were uttered, the air seemed to freeze.

Everyone's breath stopped at that moment.

"...the entire clan, stripped of their bloodline, their property confiscated, and reduced to iron slaves, to serve the divine furnace for eternity."

"All their skills, books, and wealth shall belong to the victor!"

"boom--!"

This result was like a thunderbolt from the sky, exploding in the minds of everyone in both families.

Bloodline, stripped away.

Their family property was taken away.

The entire clan was demoted to iron slaves.

To serve the divine furnace for eternity.

Every word was like a red-hot branding iron, branding itself fiercely onto everyone's soul.

Chief Walker's body trembled violently.

He felt a chilling fear.

That wasn't fear of death; that kind of fear is far more terrifying than death itself.

Death, at the very least, is a relief.

What does it mean to be "demoted to an iron slave"?
This means their bodies will be forcibly fused into scalding metal;
This means their souls will be permanently imprisoned in steel cages;

This means their suffering will be magnified infinitely, yet they will never die;

This means that their descendants, generation after generation, will have to endure this torment until the metal decays, until the end of the world...

"This this……"

A desperate sob escaped the chieftain's throat.

He suddenly turned his head and stared intently at "Karen" lying in front of him with an almost manic look.

In those eyes, there was both expectation and fear;

There is both trust and threat;
There were both pleas and commands.

All these emotions are condensed into a silent cry:

"You must win! You absolutely must win! If you dare to lose... your entire clan will be dragged into hell!"

The other family members looked at "Karen" with similar expressions.

At that moment, "Karen's" identity had completely transformed from "family disgrace" to "the only savior".

All the jealousy, contempt, and disdain vanished in that instant.

Instead, a morbid, almost religiously fanatical worship and dependence has taken its place.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the square, the envoys of the Luger family were on the verge of collapse.

The middle-aged nobleman's eyes had lost all their luster, leaving only a deathly despair.

He knew that with his own "Bourne's" talent...

In terms of "creativity," it would be difficult to beat the suddenly rising "Karen" on the other side.

This trial, from the very beginning, was a doomed dead end.

The priest who delivered the decree put away the scroll, and the light screen slowly dissipated.

It turned around, ready to leave.

Just as it was about to take its first step, a powerful pulsation suddenly erupted from the deep blue core of its chest.

An invisible pressure swept across the entire square like a tidal wave.

Everyone, including Chief Walker, felt a suffocating pressure.

That was a "gaze" from a higher-level being.

At that moment, it seemed as if the High Priest's will, through the body of the messenger priest, briefly descended upon this square.

Karen, controlled by the "ink," stiffened slightly.

Ron's consciousness, however, clearly perceived the true meaning of that "gaze":

"You're quite interesting, young man."

"I'm waiting for your work."

"Do not disappoint me."

This thought, like a fine needle, pierced deep into Karen's soul, then vanished without a trace.

The priest who delivered the decree strode away, followed closely by two iron-clad enforcers.

The heavy footsteps gradually faded into the distance, eventually disappearing into the dark entrance of the temple.

A suffocating silence fell over the square.

Everyone was still processing the immense shock of the divine decree.

After a long while, Chief Walker slowly raised his head, trembling.

His voice was hoarse, like sand rubbing against rocks, yet it carried a madness and determination that suggested he was willing to risk everything.
"I obey...the divine decree!"

"The Walker family..."

He took a deep breath, and with all his might, let out a heart-wrenching scream:

"We swear to complete the trial, even at the cost of our lives!!!"

The shout echoed across the metal plaza like the roar of a trapped beast.

Meanwhile, in the far-off central region, Ron slowly opened his eyes in a secret chamber.

"One month..."

He muttered to himself:
"The timing is just right."

"Enough for me to complete the layout of the Stoves Star, and enough for me to deal with Nitil's various traps and regain a foothold at the observatory."

"Two games are being played out simultaneously."

He stood up and stretched his somewhat stiff body.

Outside the window, the night remained deep.

………………

The walls of the conference hall in the sixth-level space base station are not actually solid.

Those are the folds of thought formed by the solidification of the cerebral cortex of the "King of Geometry".

The seemingly regular geometric patterns are actually fragments of the fallen great wizard's last memories:

The myriad possibilities of spatial folding;
Countless trials and errors regarding dimensional boundaries;

The despair and resentment of being imprisoned, dissected, and permanently bound to this cage.

As Ron stepped into the hall, he could feel a faint pulsation coming from the floor beneath his feet.

That was the remnant consciousness of the "King of Geometry," sensing every intruder who entered its domain.

More than twenty wizards of Moon rank or above were already sitting around the table according to some unseen hierarchical order.

Their expressions varied:
Some people's eyes gleamed with schadenfreude, some remained expressionless like stone statues, and others exchanged glances in secret.

On the main seat, a ball of deep red flame slowly condensed and took shape.

Nytil Brown, who has just stepped into the threshold of becoming a great wizard, has successfully compressed, reshaped, and condensed her unstable fiery ethereal body into a relatively stable human form.

She was dressed in a deep red gown, her face cold and beautiful.

The lines of his facial features seemed to have been carved with a knife, possessing an almost cruel symmetrical beauty.

However, when Ron's gaze fell upon her eyes, he saw not human pupils.

They were two pure, never-ending vortexes of flame.

Orange-red flames spun wildly in his eye sockets, occasionally bursting out with dark golden sparks.

That twisted, tyrannical essence, yearning to burn everything, is openly proclaimed through these "eyes":

Her power comes from destruction, and her existence signifies the end.

"Everyone."

Nitil spoke:
"Thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to attend this strategic meeting."

She snapped her fingers, leaving tiny sparks in the air.

"Cassandra has been out of contact with Vital for more than three months."

After careful evaluation, the Truth Court determined that she was 'temporarily'—note, 'temporarily'—unable to fulfill the duties of the observatory's head.

She emphasized the word "temporarily" very heavily.

The implied meaning was clear to everyone present:
In most cases, a great wizard who has been missing for three months has either perished or fallen into some kind of permanent predicament.

The term "temporarily" was merely a polite way of putting it, to avoid completely enraging the remaining forces of the Crown Clan.

"Therefore, during this special period, we must make some... necessary adjustments."

Nitil's fiery eyes swept over everyone present.

Ultimately, the focus shifted to three exploration team captains who were clearly former members of Cassandra's old group.

The three men's faces gradually turned pale.

"First, regarding the strategic deployment for abyss exploration."

Nitil waved her hand, and a three-dimensional star map appeared in the air.

That was the entire area covered by the Abyss Observatory, with countless shimmering points of light representing different exploration bases and resource points.

"Eye" Exploration Team, "Recovery" Exploration Team, "Border Guard" Exploration Team.

With her fiery fingers, she illuminated the outermost, most remote, and most dangerous areas of the star map in turn:
"According to the latest resource assessment report, a high-value 'Abyssal Crystal' vein has been discovered in the tenth abyssal sector."

This resource has immeasurable strategic significance for improving the stability of the observatory structure.

"Therefore, I have decided to transfer your three teams to this sector for a two-year in-depth exploration."

As soon as the words were spoken, the faces of the three captains who were named were not just pale, but almost transparent.

The tenth abyss sector is a forbidden zone that even great wizards must treat with caution.

Void turbulence, dimensional storms, and those abyssal native monsters whose names can't even be pronounced correctly...

Sending three exploration teams there simultaneously, ostensibly for "re-employment," was in reality tantamount to exile.

It could even be described as a disguised death sentence.

"Acting station manager."

One of the captains, Lewis, a middle-aged man with a scar on his face, spoke with difficulty:
"The danger level of the tenth abyss sector far exceeds our team's ability to withstand it."

In the past, such missions would have received Professor Utter's close attention and timely assistance, but now we..."

"Therefore, I will provide you with additional resources and supplies."

Nitil interrupted him, her tone leaving no room for negotiation:

Each team will receive an 'escape beacon'.

In the event of an overwhelming danger, a beacon can be activated for emergency teleportation.

A cold smile flashed across her fiery eyes:

"Of course, each beacon can only be used once."

Furthermore, the teleportation requires a one-minute recharge time. Hopefully, you... will find it useful.

One minute.

In a place like the seventh sector of the abyss, one minute is enough for an exploration team to die ten times over.

The so-called "escape beacon" is, at best, a psychological comfort toy.

Some of the others present wore gloating expressions, while others lowered their heads and pretended to study the documents on the table.

Nitil's confidants, those Moon-level wizards who pledged their allegiance to her immediately after she broke through to the Great Wizard level, made no attempt to hide their cold smiles.

The cruelty of power was on full display at this moment.

The three captains exchanged glances and ultimately chose to remain silent.

They knew that resistance would only invite more brutal retaliation.

Moreover, they are not without other options.

To put it bluntly, all three captains are extremely rare Dark Sun-level wizards, a rarity anywhere.

If they are really forced into a corner, the worst they can do is abandon their core staff here and go to join another faction.

However, if they do choose to leave the observatory, then Nitil has already achieved her goal.

"very good."

Nitil nodded in satisfaction, her long, fiery hair swaying gently behind her head.

"It seems that everyone understands the current predicament of the observation station."

Resources are scarce, the war situation is tense, and we must make some...difficult but necessary decisions.

Her gaze slowly shifted to Ron, who sat silently to the side of the conference table.

Those burning eyes held not only probing and apprehension, but also an aggressive determination to win.

"This leads to the second topic I want to discuss today."

Nitil's voice suddenly softened, like the crackling firewood in a winter fireplace:
"About our brilliant scholar, Lecturer Ron Ralph."

She actually revealed a genuine smile, and the savage intent in her fiery eyes subsided slightly:

"Lecturer Ralph's chaos simulation device is the most important technological breakthrough for the observatory in recent decades."

It has elevated our understanding of the abyssal environment by at least two levels.

"This epoch-making contribution deserves the highest respect from each and every one of us."

She even stood up and gave Ron a slight bow.

Sparse applause rang out in the conference room.

Some people are sincere, while others are just being polite.

Others applauded while secretly watching the spectacle unfold.

Ron accepted the "commendation" without any expression.

He knew that the real attack was imminent.

really.

Nitil sat down again, her fiery fingers making a light sweeping motion in the air.

A huge list, densely packed with numbers, unfolded in the air like a waterfall.

That was a resource consumption statistics table.

Each line records in detail:

In a certain month of a certain year, on one of Ron's projects.

How many units of Abyssal Crystals, how many grams of Void Dust, how many hours of access to core facilities were consumed...

The numbers are accurate to three decimal places.

The time span is as long as three years.

"Everyone, please take a look."

Nitil's voice carried a hint of heartbreak:

"In the past three years alone, Ralph Lecturer's personal research projects."

This consumed nearly ten percent of the station's total resource quota.

She paused deliberately, letting the number linger in the air:
"Nearly 10 percent, what does that mean?"
This means that all of us combined only share 90% of the resources.

Whispers began to ripple through the meeting room.

"Of course, if Lecturer Ralph can consistently produce results on par with the chaos simulation device, then this investment is entirely worthwhile."

Nitil's tone shifted again:

"The problem is..."

The list begins to flip rapidly, eventually stopping at the records from the last two years:
"In the two years since the chaos simulation device was completed."

Lecturer Ralph continued to expend resources, but never submitted any further research of equal value.

Project approvals: 37.

"Project completed: Zero".

"Published papers: zero."

"Technological breakthrough: zero."

Each zero was like a heavy hammer blow to Ron's reputation.

Nitil's confidants began to echo her sentiments:
"The acting station manager is right. Resources are limited; we can't support one person indefinitely."

"The chaos simulation device is indeed amazing, but it was developed two years ago."

“The observatory is not a charity; every resource should go to the most productive researchers.”

Even some neutrals began to nod slightly in agreement.

They didn't have any ill intentions towards Ron; they simply believed, from an efficiency standpoint, that there was indeed a problem with this resource allocation.

Neytil looked at Ron, the flames in her eyes flickering even more intensely:
"Ralph, I understand that genius needs time to mature and space to explore freely."

But in wartime, we must make some trade-offs.

Her voice became more serious:

"Therefore, I propose to establish a new key project—'Chaos Source Purification'."

The projection in the air switched, revealing a dazzlingly distorted area on the seventh level of the abyss.

The spatial structure there has completely collapsed; chaos, order, void, substance...

All opposing concepts collided, merged, and annihilated there in a frenzy.

"This is the 'Disordered Singularity' of the seventh layer of the Abyss."

Nitil's voice was malicious:

"If we can thoroughly study the operating rules of this singularity, and even purify or control it to a certain extent."

Our understanding of chaos will then be elevated to an unprecedented level. And for this project, none other than Instructor Ralph is more suitable.

She stood up and extended her hand, formed of solidified flames, to Ron:
"I will provide you with the most elite team, ten times more resources than before, and grant you full authority as the project's overall manager."

"If successful, you will become another legendary scholar of the observatory, following in the footsteps of Professor Utter."

At this point, her tone suddenly changed, and a cruel glint flashed in her fiery eyes:
"Of course, if the project progresses slowly, or if it cannot produce any interim results for a long time..."

"Therefore, for the overall benefit of the observatory, we will have to temporarily revoke all the privileged resources you currently enjoy and allocate them to more productive research directions."

"Until you prove once again that you are worth this investment."

This is a trap.

A trap designed with exquisite skill and almost flawless precision.

Accepting the project means going to the seventh level of the abyss, the "disordered singularity" where even the Dark Sun level cannot stay for long.

Moreover, the project itself is so difficult that it's an unsolvable dead end.

The essence of the source of chaos is that it is "unpurifiable" and "uncontrollable," otherwise it would not be called "chaos."

Rejecting a project is tantamount to admitting that you are a useless person who only sits around and squanders resources without producing anything.

Therefore, losing privileged resources is a logical consequence.

The brilliance lies in the fact that this proposal is logically sound and morally justifiable.

It gave Ron an "opportunity," a chance to "prove himself."

As for the fact that this opportunity is tantamount to suicide, that's not something Nytil needs to worry about.

A brief silence fell over the conference room.

All eyes were on Ron, waiting for his reaction.

Some people sympathized, some were indifferent, and some gloated.

Some people were already calculating how to divide Ron's resource allocation once he fell.

Nitil's confidants made no attempt to hide their smug smiles.

In their view, this young genius was bound to fail here today.

You either accept a mission that leads to certain death, or you accept utter disgrace.

Either choice means he will be completely ousted from the power center of the observatory.

After a while.

Ron slowly stood up.

His movements were calm and composed, with no trace of panic or anger on his face.

Instead, a mocking smile appeared on his lips.

"The acting station manager is right."

His voice had a strange, penetrating power:

"The resource consumption is enormous, that's a fact. I don't deny it."

Nitil was somewhat smug.

She thought Ron was going to give in.

However, the next moment.

"But I would like to ask everyone here a question."

Ron looked around, his gaze sweeping over every face:

"Which of you here has made a groundbreaking discovery that wasn't built on the consumption of massive amounts of resources?"

His gaze lingered on Nytil:

"Acting Station Master, you yourself probably consumed far more resources than this during your breakthrough to the Great Wizard level, right?"

This question caused a slight pause in the atmosphere of the meeting room.

Because Ron was telling the truth.

Any high-level research inevitably involves an astronomical investment of resources.

This is an ironclad rule in the wizarding world, and no one is exempt.

Nitil's expression was rather grim, and the flames in her fiery eyes flickered even more intensely.

However, Ron did not give her a chance to refute.

He waved his hand, and another projection appeared in the air.

That wasn't some sophisticated research data, but rather four names and their latest achievements:
Herman – A newly promoted professional potion master, specializing in battlefield first aid potions.

Liz – A newly promoted professional potion master, specializing in bloodline harmonizing potions.

Lilia – A newly promoted professional potion master, specializing in material resonance technology.

Eve St. Mange – A newly promoted professional potion master, heir to the Crown Clan, and soon to be promoted to a full-fledged wizard.

Four names, like four resounding slaps, landed on Nitil's cold and beautiful face.

"The resources I consume."

Ron's voice carried an undeniable power:

"Indeed, it is not all used for my personal research."

"A significant portion was used for teaching."

"To be used to train the next generation of wizards."

He pointed to four names in the projection:
"These four newly recruited professional potion masters are my most important 'achievements' over the past few years."

"Among them, three are about to be promoted to full wizards within six months."

"Princess Eve was even praised by the 'Thorn Cauldron' as the 'most talented potion genius in three hundred years'."

His gaze swept over Nitil like a knife:

"Excuse me, acting station manager."

"Four professional potion masters and three who are about to be promoted to full wizards."

A future heir of the Crown Clan with a high probability of reaching the level of a Grand Wizard.

"This achievement..."

He emphasized his tone:

"Is it enough to offset those resource consumptions?"

The conference room fell into a deathly silence once again.

Everyone was stunned.

They had previously focused only on Ron's research output, completely ignoring his achievements in teaching.

Nurturing talent is an undeniable and immense achievement in the wizarding world.

This is because it is directly related to the inheritance of civilization and the core operation of the "favor" rule.

A prospective potion master who can train four professional potion masters is as valuable as a major technological breakthrough.

Not to mention, one of these four students is the heir to the Crown Clan.

Nitil's face turned ashen.

Her carefully designed trap was easily neutralized by the other party from an angle she had never anticipated.

And what's worse is...

Ron's move completely blocked all of her subsequent attack routes.

If she continues to dwell on the issue of resources, it would be tantamount to questioning the value of "cultivating talent".

In the society of wizards, this is tantamount to academic suicide.

It would be even more ridiculous if she turned around and attacked the other party for "only being able to teach and not being able to conduct research".

Teaching itself is a highly advanced form of research.

Because you must have a deep enough understanding of knowledge in order to pass it on to others.

Nitil's confidants also kept quiet.

Their earlier mockery and doubts have now become slaps on their own faces.

Even the neutrals began to look at Ron with a newfound appreciation.

The achievement of training four professional potion masters is enough to shut anyone up.

The atmosphere in the conference room subtly shifted.

Nitil took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the anger in her heart.

She knew that continuing to dwell on this topic would only put her in a more passive position.

Just as she was preparing to launch an attack from a different angle.

Ron spoke again.

His voice remained calm, but carried a highly professional, academic tone that only the high-ranking wizards present could understand:
"Also, the acting station manager."

"Before the meeting started, on my way here, I took the opportunity to check the operational status of the station's core facilities."

“I noticed that the spatial stability anchor point of the ‘diving device’ showed a frequency shift of 0.017%.”

His tone was as if he were discussing today's weather:

"Although this offset is negligible, it will not have any impact on short-term operation."

"Over the long term, this may lead to systematic errors in our observation of the underlying rules of the abyss."

"so……"

He added casually:
"I've already calibrated it."

The voice just fell.

Suddenly, a deep, soul-stirring pulse resounded throughout the conference hall!

It was a deeper resonance that acted directly on the spirit.

It was as if the "heart" of the entire base station had started beating again at that moment.

On the walls of the conference hall, the vein patterns that usually only glow faintly suddenly lit up!

Deep blue light surged in from all directions like a tide, illuminating the entire hall like a palace in the deep sea.

Those vein patterns began to pulsate rhythmically.

It was as if it were paying the highest tribute to a new master.

Everyone felt the fluctuation of will emanating from the core facilities of the observation station.

That was the imprint of Professor Utter's will.

But now.

It resonated deeply with Ron's mental frequency!
Nitil stood up abruptly, the flames in her fiery eyes almost materializing.

She could clearly feel that her authority as the "acting site administrator" was encountering some kind of invisible resistance at this moment.

Submersible device.

The most core and important facility of the observatory.

It turns out that she didn't have ultimate control over it!

Ron then slowly turned around, facing Nydia with a soft laugh:
"I forgot to tell the agent station manager a small thing."

"Professor Utel transferred the highest management authority over the submersible to me before he passed away."

"As his last student, I have a responsibility to ensure that this masterpiece, into which the professor devoted his life's work, can continue to operate stably."

As he spoke, that smile became even more meaningful:

"The 'chaotic source purification' project that the acting station manager just proposed does sound very challenging and has great academic value."

“I am personally very interested in this.”

"only……"

His tone suddenly turned somewhat regretful:

"For this project to proceed smoothly, it will inevitably require frequent use of the diving device to conduct on-site investigations of the seventh level of the abyss."

"Unfortunately."

Ron spread his hands, revealing a helpless expression:

"Without my permission and assistance, the submersible...cannot move."

"Its spatial anchor point positioning system, abyssal coordinate calibration module, and most importantly, the ethereal adjustment circuit..."

"It requires my mental frequency to be synchronized in real time to ensure that I am not torn to pieces by the chaotic currents of the abyss during the descent."

He glanced at Nydiel, a hint of amusement in his eyes:

"So, acting station manager."

"If you insist on stripping me of my resource allocation and excluding me from the core of the observatory..."

"Then, I'm afraid it won't just be my research that will be affected."

"The entire observation station, all projects that require the use of submersible devices, will come to a standstill."

These words exploded in the conference hall like a bombshell.

Everyone realized a cruel truth:

Ron holds the key to the observatory's fate.

Nitil's face was beyond ugly.

Her fiery eyes burned with an almost tangible rage.

Her meticulously planned cleanup operation ended in complete failure against Ron.

Just when the atmosphere was tense and almost out of control.

The main projector in the center of the conference hall was suddenly cut off.

A metallic, ethereal projection slowly coalesced into shape.

Vinard.

The great wizard, who had completely abandoned his physical body, stood quietly in the center.

He made no small talk and showed no emotional fluctuation.

He simply scanned the crowd with his mechanical eyes, which resembled those of a precision instrument.

then.

His voice echoed in the conference hall:
“Nette Brown”.

"According to Article 381 of the 'Sixth Layer Space Base Station Cross-System Linkage Protocol'."

"The stable operation of the submersible is directly related to my deep-sea mining project."

He pulled up a technical agreement that was so complex it was dazzling.

The top is densely marked with the connection nodes of various energy circuits:
“Instructor Ralph’s routine maintenance and precision calibration of the equipment are key technical support for ensuring the smooth progress of my project.”

"Any attempt to interfere with his authority or restrict his access to core facilities..."

Vinard's mechanical eyes stared directly at Nitil:
"All of these will be seen as deliberate sabotage of my project's progress."

"It will also be seen as a provocation against me personally."

These words cleverly transformed this power struggle into an undeniable issue of "technology dependence."

Even if she wanted to target Ron, Nydia wouldn't openly turn against a senior archmage like Vinard.

Nitil clenched her fists so tightly that her nails almost dug into her palms.

But she couldn't refute it.

Because what Vinard said were all technical facts.

however.

Just when everyone thought the standoff was about to end with Nitil's compromise.

A hole was suddenly burned into a space in the conference hall!
A portal made of lava and flames tore open out of thin air in the distorted space!
A terrifying heatwave surged into the hall like a tsunami!
A giant over five meters tall slowly emerged from the portal.

It was Salamander.

This being, who had just entered the realm of a Grand Wizard, exuded an aura that was more violent, more primal, and more... dangerous than that of Nytil.

His skin was a dark red, like molten iron just taken from a furnace.

With each breath, high-temperature steam is expelled from its mouth and nose.

His eyes were two molten golds, purer and more intense than Nytil's!

Salamanda didn't look at anyone.

His burning pupils were fixed on Nytil from the very beginning.

The giant walked step by step toward the throne.

With each step, the metal floor melts from the high temperature, leaving a deep footprint.

His voice was like the roar of a volcano:

"Professor Utter."

"He is my most respected mentor."

"He was also the one who guided me, a stonemason who came to the wizarding world later in life."

Salamanda stopped in front of Nytil.

Its enormous body, like a mountain peak, cast an extremely oppressive shadow.

"His students."

"His legacy."

"The diving device he poured his life's work into creating."

The giant's voice, each word deliberate and forceful, struck like a hammer:

"It's not your turn."

"A newcomer who just picked up 'blessing'."

"Pointing fingers and making comments!"

The last four words were shouted out.

The terrifying sound waves, mixed with the tangible impact of high temperature, unleashed a storm of fire in the conference hall!
The hem of Nitil's gorgeous dress swayed violently from the impact.

True fear finally appeared on that cold and beautiful face.

(End of this chapter)